


Down the Lights

by PrinceSixFingers



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Erections, Erotic dancing, Kissing, M/M, Pseudo-Incest, alcohol consumption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-20 21:41:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11929836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceSixFingers/pseuds/PrinceSixFingers
Summary: After an unexpected back and forth with his brother that morning, Stan wonders what's gotten into Ford when he tells Stan to meet him at a night club downtown.





	Down the Lights

“Is this really the place?” Stan asks himself. He looks down at the address Ford texted him and then up at the street signs on the corners. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

Stan scratches at his head, trying to think of why his brother would want him to meet at a nightclub like this. Ford had been acting weird ever since this morning. 

~~~

Stan first noticed while they were at the laundromat. He was laying out some clothes that needed to be washed when Ford started asking questions.

“Stanley, how long have you had this?” Ford probes, holding up a red and black plaid button up.

“A year or so now, I think,” Stan guesses.

“And how about this? Or these?” Ford inquires, pointing to another plaid button up and a pair of distressed denim pants. “Are those skinny jeans?” He asks after taking a closer look.

“Jeez Poindexter, I dunno. About as long as the other shirt? And no, those aren't skinny jeans. They're just ‘slim’,” using air quotes for emphasis. “You really think I could walk around with my junk crushed like that?” Ford gives an incredulous look. “What's with all the questions? I know you've seen me wear everything in that pile before.”

“You're probably right. I just never noticed you had any hip clothes,” Ford laments.

“First of all, I’m pretty sure callin’ ‘em hip ain't ‘hip’ and second, I didn't actively go out an’ buy ‘em. Wendy dragged me to the mall one day and told me I needed some modern clothes. As you can imagine, Mabel was only too happy to help her with that,” Stan sighed.

“That I can imagine,” Ford chuckles. He rummages through the last of Stan’s clothes, inspecting each other piece of clothing he deems hip. When he finishes, he turns and heads towards the door.

“Where do ya think you're goin’?” Stan hollers across the place. “You just put your clothes in the wash!”

“Take care of them for me, will you Stanley? There’s something I must to attend to,” he replies, checking to make sure he has everything he needs. “And remember to go easy on the starch!” And with that he was gone. Stan, like a good brother, finished his twin’s laundry, lugged both of their clothes back to the Stan O’ War II by himself and folded them before setting them out to be put away later. 

Then he waited – waited for hours with no word from his brother. At first, he was pissed, wondering how his brother could just split like that without any kind of explanation. Then it turned to confusion, realizing Ford didn't usually pull stunts like this. And finally, fear, once it became dark out with no sign of his twin. 

That's when Stan’s phone buzzed with the vague text and the address for somewhere downtown. There were also instructions to “wear something hip.”

“Oh, I’ll give you hip!” Stan challenges, scanning over the text one more time. Rummaging through his wardrobe he tries to put together the outfit that most screams ‘pretentious hipster’, remembering all those punks who would come in and harass him and Soos at the Mystery Shack when Wendy had the day off. From memory, this included a lot of denim, flannel and beanies.

He settles on a black tank top (figuring it’ll be hot inside this place), some ripped up blue jeans, boots and finishes the look by tying a red denim button up around his waist. Checking himself out in the mirror he actually feels pretty confident. “I don’t look half bad! Hell, even my shoulder hair looks good,” he chuckles to himself. Flexing a little, he kisses his bicep and gives himself a nod. “Oh yeah, I’d do me-

I’d definitely do me.” 

~~~

At the door the bouncer stops him, asking to see an ID. Stan can’t remember the last time he got carded for anything. Hell, he used his senior status to get away with stuff! Playing the role of an old, senile geezer was a part of the con. Looking at the bigger man like he’s crazy, he fishes around his pocket for his ID. He hadn’t brought his wallet with him since he figured its thick outline would kill the look he was going for.

The bouncer scans over the card. When he looks up at Stan he does a double take. Now it’s his turn to give a quizzical look. Stan knows he hasn’t updated his driver’s license photo in a while, but he can’t look that far from it. 

“I know, I know – I look better in real life,” Stan chides in a sing-song way. He can’t place why he put a rhythm behind it and feels like he’s referring to something with his tone. The imposing man hands back Stan’s ID and motions with a weak head nod towards the door. “Thanks pal,” Stan grumbles.

Walking into the club he notices it’s not too crowded yet. That probably accounts for how he got in without waiting in a line. He scans the place looking for Ford. The bar is much more active than the dance floor. He squeezes into a spot closest to the entrance and orders a shot of tequila. He wants to be as loose as possible tonight and as much as he hates it, tequila is the fastest way to get there. As the bartender walks away Stan looks ahead to see his brother sitting at the other side of the U-shaped counter.

Stan tries to wave him down, being as discreet as possible. The bartender gives him a funny look before she withdraws. His attempt goes unnoticed. Cursing to himself, he watches as a sharply dressed man slides in next to Ford. He seemingly asks Ford something before signaling another bartender. Sliding two glasses their way, the suitor offers one to Ford before the two toast and share a drink.

Watching all of this take place, Stan finds himself getting riled up. He feels something new inside himself. Not quite anger, but something close, something he hasn’t felt in a while. If he had to put his finger on it, it feels almost like jealousy except he’s never felt that way about Ford before. Not when it came to his numerous academic achievements while they were growing up nor when word that Jenny O’Dell had a crush on Ford when they were in 11th grade spread around.

Back to the scene at hand, he watches as the two chat, both smiling and exchanging looks. The man hooks his thumb towards the dance floor, nodding his head in the same direction as he places his other hand on Ford’s shoulder. Stan nearly pounds his fist on the counter at this. He stops it right above the sheen surface, holding back as the bartender passes by. He snags the woman’s attention and asks her to make the shot a double. She gives him a look but nods her confirmation before continuing on.

Returning his attention to his brother, he sees Ford shake his head side to side. Relieved, Stan watches as Ford’s would-be suitor politely nods and excuses himself. His bespectacled twin finishes his drink and pulls out his phone, clicking it on. The screen illuminates his face briefly before he clicks it off. Watching this reminds Stan he has a device just like that...

Smacking his forehead, he reaches into his pocket and pulls his phone out. He should have texted Ford right when he walked in. Maybe then he wouldn’t have watched his twin get hit on by another guy.

Another guy…

He pauses at the thought. If he’d seen a woman buy Ford a drink would it have bothered him? If… If he’d been the one to ask Ford to dance would it have made a difference? Lost in thought, he almost misses the drink that gets slid to him. He looks up at the bartender, who gives a quick nod at him before taking another person’s order.

Stan downs the shot in one swig. He pulls out a 20 and leaves it under the shot glass. He quickly shoots his brother a text as he makes his way towards the other side of the bar. By the time he gets to where his brother was sitting he’s gone. He looks around quickly and makes out that oh-so-familiar outline of fluffy hair making its way deeper into the crowd.

Moving further into the club he feels the energy build. He checks his phone for a response; nothing. He feels so out of place amongst these young people. At least his clothes fit the occasion. It’s crazy seeing how many of them are good looking, too. He’s hit on his fair share of ladies that were out of his league before, but hell, even he can admit some of the guys here are 10s! Why his brother chose this place, Stan may never know.

As he makes his way through the dance floor a new song starts, one that actually grabs his attention. He stops moving and starts to dance a little, surprised he likes the song this much. He closes his eyes and really starts to get into it, just another person lost to the music in this sea of bodies.

Just as the song starts to pick up he feels someone rubbing up against his back. He shrugs it off as someone trying to get past him but quickly realizes this isn't the case when they start to grind against him.

That's when he feels hands on his waist, coaxing him to stay. He doesn't mind, but he knows he'd prefer to lead. He waits for the beat to repeat and spins around to face the initiator. They somehow pick up on the position change and spin around before Stan can see their face.

In the dark with the strobing lights it's hard to get a good look at whoever it is. It's not hard to tell that they're tall – as tall as Stan actually. With short, dark hair that looks thick and full and a solid frame Stan also notices they're most definitely not a woman. This doesn't surprise Stan as much as the thought that some young buck would be interested in dancing with an old fart like him. 

He's never danced with another man before but he’s getting into the way this guy’s hips move. He grabs at the man’s waist and pulls him in closer, getting a little turned on at how much he's enjoying this. He rarely finds time to take care of things down there, not to mention it's been ages since he got any. He hopes the kid can't feel that extra something he’s now grinding into.

When the breakdown starts, Stan (knowingly aware that he shouldn't know that term) watches as his heartthrob starts to really feel himself. He’s bent over, pushing his ass into Stan unabashedly. Stan can't help but give his cheeks a nice smack. He stays like that for a bit and just keeps shaking his noticeably sweet ass. Stan’s about at his limit and steps back, throwing his hands up in mock surrender and enjoys the view.

“This guy’s something else!” Stan thinks to himself. Watching him, Stan sees his outfit and finds that it looks familiar. He can't quite put his finger on where he’s seen it and with the pulsing lights he can't be sure of any of the colors except for the dark hoodie and jeans. As he tries to place the look, his seductive new friend backs into him again.

Without noticing it Stan’s been edged to the back of the club. He feels his back against the wall and notices the lack of people nearby. The song is winding down but his young dancer is still giving Stan everything. Just when Stan thought he couldn't be sexier, this young stud drops it low! (Again, another instance of not knowing how he knows something like this.) As he arches out of it, he looks back. 

Stan catches just a glimpse of the man’s face before he spins him around and presses him to the wall. He shuts his eyes and lunges for the man’s lips. He's met with no resistance, feeling their tongues tangle together. The taste of alcohol lingers on the man's breath. It's such an intoxicating sensation that Stan starts to feel up his cornered prey, wanting to touch every inch of him.

His hands shoot in opposite directions. His right-hand scrambles for the others man's, their fingers intertwining as Stan holds it against the cold concrete. His left slides under his shirt, touching his smooth skin and sending shivers down Stan’s spine. His senses are on overload as he takes in everything. That's when he notices his pinky finger isn’t free, each of his digits between another pair…

Stan’s eyes open wide. He hastily breaks the kiss and looks around. He sees an exit sign not too far from them and shoves his way through, dragging his paramour with him. They're spit out into an alleyway, deserted from the looks of it. Stan releases the young man's wrist and slowly turns to look at him.

“Stanford….?” he croaks solemnly.

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another project I've started with plans for more parts (before I continue with the others I've posted)! Initially I had wanted this part to read a bit longer, but I feel like my stories tend to run on a bit before going to the next part. I feel like I stopped at a good point with this one. The contemporary setting kept writing this one feeling fresh though so we'll see how soon it is before I come back to it. lol
> 
> I would love to hear any feedback! Thanks for reading!
> 
> P.S. (a million years later lol) - here's the song that plays when Stan starts dancing. Played this bad boy to get me in the vibe of the story. 
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/hotsteppersrecs/dib-down-the-lights-original-mix  
> https://open.spotify.com/album/6ynOlKikndAtiHImIUuOo9


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